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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557999">I Prayed My Mind Be Good to Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonfluff/pseuds/pigeonfluff'>pigeonfluff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Ficlet, Multi, One Shot, Other, POV Second Person, Rexxentrum, Spoilers, but make it poetic, cr2ep110, eodwulf's gay panic: the fic, implied past blumendrei, implied polyamory, liam really did say blumendrei rights, nothing like 16 years of repressed feelings to make a man go wild, short fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:13:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>842</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigeonfluff/pseuds/pigeonfluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a scourger, a fairytale, an invisible man. For 17 years you have done your duty, and thought of nothing else.<br/>You have given yourself over to Fate's cruel grasp, and only ever looked ahead.<br/>And now he stands before you, a man who escaped. You thought you'd never see him again.<br/>Now you can't stop thinking of him, and he stands in front of you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Astrid/Eodwulf (Critical Role), Eodwulf/Caleb Widogast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Prayed My Mind Be Good to Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You are a Scourger, a Volstruker. You have spent most of your life with blood on your hands now. You have learned how to hurt. You have learned how to suffer. You have learned how to devote yourself to the cause, how to throw yourself into faith, because faith is easier than wrestling a voice that should be dead by all rights.<br/>There is good in it, you tell yourself. You are content, you tell yourself. This is how it is, how it was meant to be, how it should be, you tell yourself. You have so much now. You have a house, you have influence, you have nice clothes, you have a partner who has grown with you. You are Lucky. You are Fated.<br/>You try not to think about the one who got away, the other who was as much your heart as your partner is now your vision for the future. You do not dare hope.<br/>But then, Fate decides to play a trick, and you cannot bring yourself to curse the Matron. Not after everything, not after all the trust you put in her. There he is, walking your Master’s halls, walking through your city, your old haunts.<br/>He is here, and he is burning, burning, burning, burning a hole in your heart again, burning a hole in your mind, burning.<br/>You think about him. You can’t stop thinking about him. You think about how much he's grown, how confident he is now. You think about how much fuller his face is now, and wonder if it carries through the rest of him. You wonder who’s been feeding him. You wonder how long it took him to accept those gifts, how long it took his gangly bones to soften. You think about his hair, how long it is now, tied back neatly, so clearly groomed with care. He had always wanted to grow it out when you were children. He had always cried when presented with a razor. You think about his clean shaven face, and wonder how long he spends caring for himself. His stubble always grew so quickly before, and even now, shades of it show. You think about how his eyes are hollow, sunken, haunted, but... If you look just a bit deeper they have a spark now. And his clothes! You think about his clothes, so simple, but so elegant, tailored just right for his lanky body, worn with dignity. You think about how such fine things can only be attained with money, money of the likes you’d never dreamed of before setting sight on Rexxentrum. <br/>You think he looks good, you think he looks like he's been living, for once in his 33 years, you think he looks perhaps, like the kid he used to be. But you also cannot help but see that his simple demeanor conceals steel, steel sharp you can practically taste the blood it draws. You think of his grace, a grace that masks power, planning, a silver tongue. You think about how he was a weapon forged, and you think about where he is pointed.<br/> And you think about yourself. You are strong and smart and devoted. You can follow orders, you can see how fate weaves its words, or at least, you think you can. After all, you are one of The Matron’s chosen, you serve her so well. You’ve committed the blasphemy of choosing her, over the gods of your youth and calling her Mistress. She weaves the fates, all is her design. And here this man is, after a decade and a half. What can it be besides a fateful encounter? You called him Bren, when you were young, but now he goes by the name Caleb, and you think you like how it feels on your tongue. Caleb. Caleb. You say it again, and again, as often as thought of him runs through your mind.<br/>You don’t need words with Astrid. You are closer to her than anyone else now. You look at her as he steps into the room, and she looks back, the slightest nod passed between you. You cannot stop thinking of him. You forget to think of your Master, for a fleeting second.<br/>"You look good."<br/>What a stupid stupid thing to say! But what else is there to say? He looks good. He looks so good you stop thinking. He looks good and you wonder if you could look that good, or ever could have. It must be too late now, isn't it? <br/>What a cruel fate the Matron has spun for you!<br/>And yet...<br/>And yet...<br/>Caleb says you can come with him. He doesn't understand. Of course he doesn’t understand. It shocks you back into your thoughts. You think about him smiling. You think about him drinking from your bottle. You think, and think, and think. And... You wonder.<br/>For the first time in years, you cannot focus on your evening prayers.<br/>You dream of burning blue eyes, and undying devotion, and Her strings, spinning, spinning spinning....</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! Got comments, questions, or just want to chat? find me on tumblr @fluffmonger!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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